Fair Warning
by WadeH
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet is NOT surprised by a proposal in Hunsford, because she receives Fair Warning of the impending disaster from an unexpected source and she shall know how to act.
1. Letters

_Welcome back to my loyal readers and a hearty welcome to new ones!_

 _My last story, The Fee Entail was admittedly on the heavy side, so maybe this can be the antidote. I did very much like the shifting first person POV of FE, so I believe I will continue it. I intend this to be a short story, maybe 6-10 chapters, but as usual I have no idea how it will end, and I hardly ever meet my self-imposed chapter limits. I guess I'll find out when you do._

 _As always, I like to caution my readers to scare off the meek._

 _Stern Content Warning ; Contains fluffy fluffericious fluffety fluffiness. If reading this on a mobile device, hold it with both hands lest it fly away. Desktop users should really superglue their monitors to the desk. For laptop users, run down to the store and buy one of those cable locks nobody ever uses._

 _Now just in case that has you worried, let me tell you what worthy content this story has to expand your mind and build your character: None, Nunca, Nada, Zip_

 _Wade_

* * *

I have always believed that the best thing to do when you have a headache is engage in an activity so vexing it makes the headache even worse; just so that you will be **_so_** relieved when it finally goes away. At least, that would seem to be my belief based on my activities of that Thursday afternoon in Hunsford when I was visiting my friend Charlotte Collins. She of course had been dragged kicking and screaming off to tea at Rosings (perhaps I overstate the case). Tea at Rosings is not the dullest activity in the world, or at least it is not if you have to attend my cousin's services; but after Colonel Fitzwilliam's disclosure of his cousin's perfidy and interference in my sister's life, I was disinclined to spend any time with either of the pig‑widgeons. I naturally decided to improve my disposition by rereading Jane's letters, apparently because I could not think of anything even more frustrating to occupy my time.

Jane was not likely to shrivel up and die over the defection of Mr. Bingley, or his pointedly ignoring her in town, but her letters showed a certain lack of Jane-like spirit that I found distressing. Of course, now that I knew a little bit more of the story I would have to decide whether I was going to enlighten her on more of the particulars or not. I still had a fortnight to think about it, so perhaps rereading her letters would serve some purpose aside from frustrating me, although it was hard to imagine what it might be.

I was quite surprised by the sound of the bell on the door. I had not heard a pounding on the front door so it was not an express rider. It _certainly_ was not anybody from Rosings. Perhaps someone from the village was making a delivery? I was well on my way to ignoring the bell exactly as I would have done were I at Rosings, when I heard the parlor door opening. Drat! Now I would have to get up.

I did manage to get up from the sofa, and did not _actually_ fall over on the floor, although it was a close thing, so that was all to my credit; but then I heard Molly make the most peculiar announcement.

"Miss de Bourgh, ma'am"

Now I was not quite so certain I would not have been better falling over on the floor. At least then I would not have had to curtsy awkwardly, but it was much too late so I performed the office as well as I could. Fortunately, hers was not that much better.

"Miss de Bourgh, welcome. I am afraid Charlotte and Mr. Collins are over at Rosings having tea. _You find me quite alone, Miss de Bourgh."_

I thought about adding a quip about why _she_ was not at Rosings, but I imagined the poor woman realized she was not at home and needed no instruction from the likes of me. Perhaps her pony threw a shoe or the wheel of her phaeton broke, and she needed me to send a servant to fetch her back.

"Miss Bennet, I hope you are feeling better."

Most peculiar!

"Yes, I am feeling much better, Miss de Bourgh. Will you not sit down?"

She looked nervous, which I would have found strange, except I could not really think of a time she had _not_ looked nervous, so perhaps my powers of discernment lacked refinement. She sat in a chair by the parlor table, and I sat opposite her.

"Shall I ring for tea?"

She seemed puzzled by the question, so when she did not answer for a moment, I took it as assent and rang the bell. Once tea had been requested, we entered in some awkward and stilted conversation for a few moments until it arrived, and then I served and we partook in the usual manner.

After a few more awkward moments, the lady said the strangest thing.

"Miss Bennet, pardon me if this seems overly forward or familiar, but I have come here to forewarn you."

No, not forward or familiar, just odd! _Very odd!_

"Warn me about what, Miss de Bourgh? I must say you are either very mysterious or very alarming. I cannot decide which at the moment."

She seemed mostly stuck at that point, so I leaned into the table and tried to set her at ease, adding, "You may speak with candor, Miss de Bourgh. We are quite alone and I will keep your confidence."

I regretted that promise as soon as it left my mouth, but there was nothing to be done about it. I continued, "Whatever _dire_ warning you carry is best delivered, is it not? What terrible event is about to befall me?"

Now she looked truly alarmed, and stuttered, "Not… not… not… no… not… no… not terrible. _Not terrible_ , just… well… oh dear!"

Now I was becoming a bit alarmed and agitated, and my headache was back with a vengeance. She seemed alarmed herself, perhaps because she was making such a muddle of the whole business.

She tamped down her anxiety, and said, "I believe my cousin is planning to propose marriage to you."

I blew out the most relieved breath of my life. I was truly expecting something terrible, so I thought to set the poor woman's mind at ease.

" _Oh! Is that all?_ Have no fear, Miss de Bourgh. I have already discussed the matter with your cousin in some detail, and no proposal is forthcoming. We are in complete accord on the subject. Really, Miss de Bourgh! You had me worried for a moment, but all is well. You may rest easy."

Now she looked perplexed, and said, _"You have already discussed it with him? How? When?"_

"We canvassed the subject this morning, when I met him in the park. The subject came up in relation to… well, to your other cousin and a friend. Fear not, Miss de Bourgh. All is well!"

She said, "He did not propose to you?"

"No, he did not, but we did discuss the matter and it is quite resolved, and to everyone's satisfaction I believe."

She looked confused, and said, "If it is not asking too much, can you tell me _why_ it is resolved in such a way, for I was quite certain of my conclusions, and would be astonished to find them in error?"

The poor woman turned bright red and looked like she had never asked an awkward or embarrassing question before. This may well have been the worst moment of her life, but in the Bennet household, a moment this awkward would not even be the worst moment of breakfast. The poor woman truly needed some sisters to toughen her up.

"It was resolved in the usual way. He seems to have some… er… what did he call them… er… _'habits of expense',_ that should guide his choice of bride. A figure of around £50,000 was discussed and seemed to be in the appropriate range. At any rate, we are in complete accord that no proposal is forthcoming, since I have no such fortune, and neither of us is particularly distressed by the lack of said betrothal."

Now it seemed the matter should be resolved, and all so easily. I had no idea what she could be nervous about.

She asked, "Do you know what _'habits of expense'_ means?"

Now I looked chagrined, and said, "I have no idea, and I suspect if given the opportunity to learn, I probably should demur. I am not certain I want to know that much about _expensive gentlemen's habits."_

She gasped at the implications, but then nodded in agreement. Some things were best left unknown.

She looked a bit embarrassed and asked, "I know I am being even ruder than my mother, but would you object to telling me how far short of that mark your fortune is?"

She gasped in surprise as soon as the words were spoken, and covered her mouth with her hands as her eyes open wide in fear or embarrassment, but I just looked at her calmly and tried to settle her down, saying, "Be at ease, Miss de Bourgh. I do not mind. You really should have some sisters if such a small slip is going to distress you. May I lend you some? I have quite a store and I could lend you at least two with no trouble whatsoever, and three would not be out of the question?"

She seemed incapable of seeing the humor of my suggestion, or anything other than horror, so I rushed in to finish the thought, "It is not gossip you are asking for Miss de Bourgh! Everyone in Meryton knows the answer. My cousin Collins knows as well so be assured your mother is aware too."

She looked at me curiously, finally coming down from her embarrassment, so I said, "As of this morning, I am around £49,993 short of the mark… more or less."

She gasped and asked, "You have no fortune at all?"

The shocked look should have made me angry, but it just made me impertinent.

"Yes, no fortune at all… well, actually I have £50 per annum, so I am not quite so destitute. But fear not, to compensate, I have no accomplishments either!"

She just looked mortified, and I had to spend another minute trying to explain the difference between teasing and censure; which seemed to be entirely new information to her. I thought it might profit Lady Catherine to hire a master to give her some lessons on teasing, and of course, Mr. Darcy could profit from the instruction as well. It would all be very efficient for the estates if they shared lessons, since they were both complete novices. They could both start with the very basics and work their way up.

She eventually calmed down, and said, "To be perfectly clear, you discussed _marriage_ with _my cousin_ , he told you he needed a _large dowry_ , and you now consider yourself either bereft or barely escaped."

I laughed at that and said, "Your cousin is nowhere near that disagreeable… we are just not suited to each other, and our situations are entirely incompatible. I assure you, I am neither bereft nor relieved. I never seriously considered him at all."

She took the news with much more of a confused look than I might have thought. I was beginning to wonder what was so confusing about the whole thing, since I barely knew the Colonel slightly longer than a fortnight. Why would she expect him to be proposing marriage in a fortnight, and why was she surprised that an army Colonel might be short of funds from time to time?

I was pondering those weighty matters, and the quite unexpectedly cross countenance of Miss de Bourgh, when I heard the bell on the front door again. I begin to wonder if the Colonel was planning to come back and check on my condition, or possibly stand still while I beat him with a stick for saying such disagreeable things about my sister. " _Honor of my cousin's triumph, indeed!"_

When I had explored the idea of a stick and the colonel's head in sufficient detail, I cast about for an even more ridiculous supposition. Perhaps, if I was _truly_ in a mood for far-fetched suppositions, I might hypothesize that it was Mr. Darcy come to check on my condition.

I was actually quite in the middle of enjoying a good giggle about the ridiculousness of that idea, when the parlor door opened again.


	2. Application

What in the world was _he_ doing here? Perhaps he came back to double check Miss Bennet's accounts?

"Mr. Darcy, ma'am"

Darcy looked flustered, so perhaps he was reconsidering the amount of fortune he required. I wondered why he needed so much money. Perhaps Pemberley was not as prosperous as everyone surmised, or perhaps those _habits of expense_ took more money than I thought. Maybe he was a gambler, which might explain much. Or, perhaps money was not enough, and he wanted a title? Either way, he should have known Elizabeth did not have £50,000 without even asking. I only had the £30,000 our family usually provided, the same as Georgiana.

It was all so vexing. I liked Miss Elizabeth very much, even though we had only one proper conversation, with half of that had been spent in my abject mortification, and the other half spent in her teasing. I was loathe to let my cousin toy with her… although come to think of it, she looked much more amused than aggrieved. This was most peculiar! Did she even want to marry the loggerhead? She had asserted quite clearly that she did not just five minutes prior, so I must take her at her word.

I stood up with Elizabeth and made my greeting, although her curtsy admittedly looked better than mine. Mother always insisted mine was absolutely perfect and needed no improvement, and as usual it was easier to agree than to challenge her.

Elizabeth replied in the usual way, "Mr. Darcy", sounding like she had left out part of what she intended to say, such as perhaps, ' _did you get lost on the way to Rosings'_ or maybe, _'I am still nearly £50,000 short the same as this morning'_ … well, I could not think of what else she might say.

My own greeting was barely civil, "Darcy"

I did my best not to curl my lip in disgust at the man, although I doubt my best was very good; and he looked at me in nervous confusion. The only thing I could think of to explain his apprehension was that he probably had no idea that I had worked out his intention to propose. He would have no way to know Elizabeth had told me about his conversation that morning, or his _habits of expense_. I was tempted to ask him about those, but that seemed like breaking a confidence, so I would have to wait at least five minutes.

He exerted himself to minimal politeness, still wondering why I looked at him with little more favor than I would a piece of dog… well, dog business on my shoe.

"Miss Bennet, I hope you are feeling better. I came by to check on you."

Elizabeth just looked at him in confusion, apparently wondering why he had to check on her after having such a thorough discussion only that morning. Her condition could not have changed all that much in a few hours, and she had asserted their parting was quite amicable.

"It is only a headache, Mr. Darcy. I am fine."

She seemed to be debating having him sit or throwing him out on his ear, but he reacted before she did.

"I beg your pardon ladies. I can see you were engaged in discussion. I have no wish to invade your privacy. I shall go."

Elizabeth seemed content with that answer, but I was not. I wanted to rattle him, and then I wanted an answer to why he had suddenly decided to jilt my best friend. Of course, having a single conversation with Miss Bennet probably did not qualify her for best friend status, but I was frightfully short on friends. Of course, since he had never actually proposed marriage, and Elizabeth neither expected nor apparently desired it, perhaps ' _jilted'_ might have been a stronger word than was strictly required, but I would stand by it.

It was time to disconcert him, so I said, "Sit down, Darcy. Elizabeth and I are quite finished exchanging confidences for the moment, and we could use something new to talk about."

Elizabeth looked at me either in censure or appreciation over my preemptive use of her given name, but I imagined she would have a teasing payback soon. Darcy looked startled as if he could neither imagine me having confidence with anyone, or me preemptively ordering him to sit.

Elizabeth had apparently decided that it was time for me to pay the price for my impertinence immediately.

"Yes, Mr. Darcy, _Anne_ and I were discussing which of my sisters I would lend her for lessons in teasing. Perhaps you could make a recommendation? I was thinking of Jane, but of course as you know she is heartbroken so might not be that merry. Therefore, I imagine it must be Lydia and Kitty. What is your opinion, sir? Would they bring a bit of levity to Rosings?"

Darcy stared her in astonishment, while she simply sat there as if she had asked his opinion on the relative merits of blue ribbons versus pink. Darcy, on the other hand started sweating, and not just figuratively. I actually saw sweat form on his forehead and start trickling down his cheek before he wiped it with his handkerchief.

Elizabeth appeared to be enjoying his discomfiture, so perhaps she was _not_ as indifferent about his lack of affection or need for fortune as she had previously asserted, and what was that about a heartbroken sister?

I opened my mouth to ask a question, but she stopped me momentarily with a glance, and said, "Or perhaps Mary might be better? Anyone can always profit from Fordyce. What think you, Mr. Darcy?"

The way he was squirming, she was apparently _not_ so happy about being cast aside over mere money. **Hah**! I was enjoying my cousin's squirming immensely, and even if Elizabeth was squeamish, I was not and I would understand these _habits of expense_ if it killed me… or more likely Darcy.

He finally, let out a gulp that sounded like he swallowed a hedgehog whole, and said, "All of your sisters are quite lovely, Miss Bennet. I am certain any of them would do."

Elizabeth just smiled that enigmatic smile and said, "Thank you, Mr. Darcy. That was most helpful."

She stared at him until he started squirming again, then abruptly released him as if he were entirely forgotten and said, "Anne, you must decide. Oh, and do you care for them at the parsonage, or do you intend them to stay at Rosings with your mother?"

Wicked, Wicked woman. She was no longer my best friend… _or was she?_

I thought it was about time for her to see that I had learned my lessons well, despite the brevity of instruction. She would see I had learned to tease with the best of them. She was to be hoisted by her own impertinence.

"Lizzy, you know full well _I have been a selfish being all my life_. I truly cannot be satisfied with only two sisters. I really must have the lot and you of course as well."

Now she looked truly shocked, as if she thought she may well have gone too far.

I just smirked at her and said, "Of course, you know for a fact that Mother would never approve the scheme at Rosings, so I am afraid we are all for Pemberley. Could we start Saturday week?"


	3. Bedlam

I had entered an absolute madhouse! That was the only possible explanation! Anne was conspiring to turn Elizabeth against me. I had no idea what stratagem she was using, or why, but she was clearly up to something! She looked at me as you might some particularly loathsome form of vermin, even though just a few hours ago she had looked at me in something more closely approaching approbation than her usual thoroughly dismissive disregard. Something had happened to anger her, but what could have possibly happened when I had not talked to either lady all day?

I knew for certain Elizabeth had been welcoming of my addresses; it had been in every expression of her countenance on our walks these few mornings, in every teasing remark at Netherfield. She _must_ have seen the adoration in my eyes, and she must have understood no man stared at a woman he did not esteem. She _must_ have been both expecting and welcoming my addresses… _or was she?_

I could just barely keep up with Elizabeth at the best of times in conversation, and to be honest, I am not certain I even always did that. She sometimes seemed to be saying something that was just beyond my reach, just beyond my understanding, just like… just like… _Oh Horrors! Just like she spoke to Caroline Bingley!_

In a rush, much of what she had said over the weeks of our association came back with an entirely different and not quite so charitable light, just in time for her to pound me practically into the ground with just a dozen or so words.

 _"I was thinking of Jane, but of course as you know she is heartbroken so might not be that merry."_

She had said it as an unambiguous and not to be refuted well known statement of fact, exactly as if she either expected me to already know it, _or to tell me that she knew what I was about and was not to be trifled with._

In a panic, I believe I actually recommended the silly sisters visit Rosings, so she had clearly rattled me beyond comprehension. She stared me like a worm for a moment, and then she simply dropped me from her attention like removing a stone from her shoe, and asked Anne in quite a sincere tone if she had gone insane enough to invite _Lydia Bennet to Rosings._

Anne's reply sent me nearly into a panic. **All five Bennet sisters at Pemberley! At Once!**

My cousin glanced over at me looking sweet and innocent, and said, "Oh wait! That will never do! Five unmarried women in a bachelor's home! The _ton_ would catch afire. No, that will never do at all!"

She said that with a mock look of consternation, but she was not fooling me in the least. She was working her way up to something most foul.

She turned back to Elizabeth and added, "You must bring your mother! That will make everything right!"

 _Her mother – Mrs. Bennet!_

Then Anne turned to me and said, "Of course, with so many merry visitors at Pemberley, I imagine we would not want _my mother_ to feel left out, so you must invite her as well."

Like a runaway coach about to dispatch me to the Netherworld forever, she added, "Of course, that will make Pemberley very lady heavy, Darcy. We will need to have our own time for our female pursuits, so of course you must invite Fitzwilliam and that Bingley fellow!"

 **What was this?** Soooo…. Elizabeth must have learned about Bingley and Jane from Anne. I wondered how she had found out. Probably my hubble-bubble cousin, who clearly needed to learn to keep his mouth shut; although I wondered how in the world such a subject could possibly have come up between him and Anne. They never talked about anything of substance, let alone other ladies.

That all made perfect sense! The Colonel told Anne about Miss Bennet and Bingley. Anne, in a tither came over to tell Elizabeth about it straightaway. Elizabeth would have responded with some teasing, which would have flustered Anne, and the mad spiral went downhill until I interrupted them right as they were trying to decide whether to have me transported or just hanged. It all made perfect sense.

Now, somehow, unless I challenged Anne directly, I would have Pemberley full of Bennet women, _including her mother._

Well, three could play at this game… although, a more careful examination found Elizabeth sitting there with her mouth hanging open, entirely bereft of speech. I had sat with her for a half hour without her speaking once in Netherfield, but that was more a contest of wills than anything else. Here, she was simply stunned into silence; and Anne was sitting there smiling like the cat that had to decide between the canary and the cream, and was torn with indecision.

Anne then turned to me sweetly, and said, "Oh, I am sorry Darcy. I did not bother to ask if Pemberley _can afford eight guests. Will it stretch your resources too thin?"_

Now she was batting her eyes at me like Miss Lydia, just wanting for me to say something stupid. What kind of a ridiculous question was that? She knew perfectly well Pemberley could afford to host anything from a dozen to a hundred. _Why had she used those particular words?_ Was someone spreading rumors about Pemberley and she was silly enough to believe them?

"I assure you Anne; Pemberley can host all of those and more without the slightest strain."

She raised an eyebrow in an expression I knew for certain she had copied from Miss Elizabeth, while that selfsame lady sat there either stunned into silence or enjoying herself immensely. I imagined she was quickly moving from the former to the latter.

Anne then said, "So, your _habits of expense_ do not strain it too much?"

What a bizarre question, and what the blazes was a _habit of expense?_

"I assure you Anne; I have no habits that Pemberley cannot afford."

She just sniggered at that, and said, "Well then, it is all settled then! Saturday week?"

I had no idea how or when or more importantly why I had agreed, but if Elizabeth was to come to Pemberley, I would accept any consequences that came with it. That would give me some time to see where the devil I had gone wrong.

* * *

 _A/N: That's it for the first day. All the chapters will be short like these I suspect._


	4. Regrets

I was sitting listening to that parson drone on full of regrets. Of course, the primary regret was that I was here in Rosings listening to that parson drone on. Such a thing could make a man repine his entire life up to that particular moment, and I was one such. That naturally led me to regret sitting there regretting I was listening to the parson instead of… wait, a moment. Any more of those sorts of thoughts would be like a dog chasing its tail, only to eventually catch it and bite himself on the… well, best to stop that cascade of thought right there and then. I really regretted the fact that I could not come up with a better way…

As you can see, listening the parson could turn a sane man mad, and a man such as myself who was not all there could probably be driven back to sanity, which when sitting in the parlor at Rosings was far far far worse. I was not a man made for deeper thoughts, and in fact, if deep thoughts needed to be thunk, I had Darcy, and come to think of it, _where the devil was Darcy?_ While I was on the subject of life's big mysteries, _where in the dickens was Anne?_ Even more importantly though, _where was the good brandy?_

I was almost ready to fall asleep on the sofa when the parson said something that made me snap around to actually listen to him… yes, I know that sounds ridiculous; but such was the case.

 _"…for it is incumbent upon those of higher station in life to avoid polluting the bloodlines of their ever more worthy ancestors and their noble lineage with any such personages as you might encounter in the classes of those of most assuredly lower birth. Such a thing would most assuredly be considered degradation, and to engage in such a reprehensible connection would be thoroughly unsupportable. It is essential that each person stay within the sphere of which they are a natural part according to the natural order of things as bequeathed…"_

The man could spread the balderdash with sufficient vigor even for Aunt Catherine, which was an impressive feat all by itself; but that _particular_ bit of nonsense had me thinking back to a conversation from earlier that morning. I had been having a perfectly lovely walk and talk with the ever delightful Miss Bennet talking about acquaintances. I could see that Darcy favored her while she was completely indifferent or even hostile to him, so I exerted myself to talk him up a bit to her by telling her what a good friend he was to Bingley. I mean who would not be impressed by his invaluable assistance in such a delicate matter. I was caught a bit by surprise when she reacted somewhat peculiarly.

 _"I do not see what right Mr. Darcy had to decide on the propriety of his friend's inclination, or why, upon his own judgement alone, he was to determine and direct in what manner his friend was to be happy…."_

There was much more along the same lines, and I naturally replied with a quip to lighten the mood, _"That is not an unnatural surmise, but it is a lessening of the honour of my cousin's triumph very sadly."_

I did not quite connect the two, but she then had a sudden change of demeanor so painfully obvious that it should have been discernible even by me. In fact, it was so abrupt I suspect even Darcy could have detected it. She developed a _very sudden_ headache sufficient to cause her to depart my company instantly and subsequently miss tea at Rosings. At the time, I reckoned that she had simply developed a sudden bout of good sense and reasonableness, but then it struck me like a bolt of lightning! I am certain my exclamation of " _Bloody Hell_ " probably set my aunt to an alarmed and agitated, state but I cared not.

It was all so painfully clear. It was all so painfully obvious. It was a fully proven, scientific fact. It was actually quite alarming.

 _Miss Elizabeth Bennet was in love with Charles Bingley, and Darcy had used his arts and allurements to separate them._

 ** _Now_** I understood why she looked at Darcy with less favor than a cavalryman looks at a French infantryman, or more likely less favor than a cavalryman looks at a French cannon that was currently pointed at his favorite horse; which he was astride. Darcy must be just about the most despised man in the county. In fact, he was probably the _last man in the world_ she wanted to receive any type of addresses from. _If he was not here, he must be at…_

With the aforementioned bout of ungentlemanly cursing, I was out of the parlor like the aforementioned French cannon, although to tell the truth, French cannons were not all that reliable, so I like to think I was off more like an English cannon, or even better, an American cannon… but I digress. I bolted from the parlor, and ran halfway to the parsonage before I realized how ridiculous I looked, and slowed down so I could approach without sweating and panting. Since Miss Bennet now knew that Darcy had separated her from the love of her life, she was probably toying with him right at that very moment, and if I got there quickly enough, I _might_ get a chance to see her make him sweat for once. I could hardly wait.

I imagined her quite capable of delivering a setdown for the ages and I only hoped to witness it. I was just imagining the scene in my mind as it must have occurred.

 _Miss Bennet and Darcy, alone in the parsonage, with him making his addresses, but not knowing she had intelligence about his actions with Bingley, was almost guaranteed to be an explosive combination._ I even started sniffing the air for signs of smoke, for I was almost certain Darcy would crawl out of the parsonage with his waistcoat on fire. There was no chance I was going to miss that.

* * *

"Colonel Fitzwilliam, ma'am"

I entered the parlor only slightly out of breath, and beheld the most bizarre tableau you can imagine.

Darcy looked like he had actually been fired from the aforementioned cannon, while the barrel was pointing at a most inconvenient granite mountain.

Miss Bennet looked either vastly amused, murderously annoyed, frightfully confused or perhaps some other emotion that was quite beyond me. Of course, those three were the only ones I used on a regular basis, so I may not have been as familiar with others as those of the gentler sex as some might be.

Anne, surprisingly looked like the cannoneer digging around for another cannonball (or gentleman), and another keg of powder while yelling at the top of her lungs, "Where is my ramrod?" I could well imagine her using her petticoat as wadding… but perhaps that was entirely too fanciful.

She actually looked at Darcy like a cat playing with a mouse, but when she heard my name she jumped to her feet, and executed her usual very elegant greeting, worthy of the finest ladies of the first circles.

"Periwinkle, just the man I am looking for!"

Her use of my given name should have either set me at ease or set me on my hackles, but since she usually did not even bother to talk to me, I had no frame of reference so I just stared.

She ran over, grabbed my arm most aggressively and dragged me over to the table. The table was not particularly large, and with a full grown Colonel making the fourth person sitting around, it was likely to be a bit crowded, but she did not appear to mind. She pulled a nearby chair over, and plunked me down in it, then resumed her own seat with hardly a breath.

Then she beamed at me most winsomely, and said, "You are just in time. Darcy has invited us all to Pemberley. I had come to believe with his _habits of expense_ he would not be able to afford it, but he assures me there shall be in impediments.

I stared at Darcy, wondering just what in the world was going on, and asked, "Which particular _habits of expense_ are you referring to Darc…", but of course, I had to stop immediately when I saw him stare at me with a look that made me want to stand in front of Anne's cannon. So… Darcy had expensive habits, did he? I should like to know what they were. I would not have guessed him for a man that would take a frightfully expensive Cyprian, so it must be drink, horses or gambling! Everyone knew that women, drink, horses and gambling were the only things that could break an estate as prosperous as Pemberley. It _had to be gambling!_ So, my cousin was both braver and more foolhardy than I imagined. He played his cards very close to the vest, my cousin Darcy… but I would get the story from the man if it killed him.

I gulped down a hedgehog, and continued, "… well, er… I mean, _of course, Pemberley can manage two guests!_ What an absurd notion, Anne."

There, that should calm Darcy down, and I really would have to ask him about his expenses, and exactly how Anne came to be privy to them. When did he even talk to our cousin? That was quite a mystery.

Unaccountably, Anne laughed and said, " _Two_ … where do you get the idea it is two?"

Now, wondering exactly what was happening, I ventured, "Is Miss Bennet coming too? Well done! Good show! You are correct; the three of us shall be a merry party!"

Anne just looked at me with her wicked grin, and I noticed Miss Bennet having a very difficult time refraining from laughing, so I asked timidly, "Is anyone else invited?"

Anne nonchalantly replied, "Well, of course, Elizabeth cannot go all the way to Pemberley without her sisters!"

I had heard about her sisters… at length… in detail, from Darcy and this did _not_ sound like a Darcy initiated scheme.

I replied carefully, "Naturally… er… which sisters?"

I was hoping it would be the young silly flirty ones because I really had missed most of the fun the previous winter in Hertfordshire.

"Why, all of them of course!"

Now I could see why Darcy was so pale.

" _All of them?"_

"Yes, of course. Nothing else would be fair."

I just nodded, and she carried on brightly.

"And of course, we must have their mother. It would not do to skirt propriety."

Now Miss Bennet was clearly enjoying the joke, while Darcy turned paler and paler. In fact, the paler he got, the brighter her smile got. Perhaps the failed proposal had already happened, and I missed the whole show, but I could not quite work out how she had kept him in the parsonage after rejecting him long enough for Anne to get her hooks into him. It was most perplexing. I was trying to imagine the setdown she must have given him, while Anne carried on.

"And of course, we must have you, Mr. Bingley and Mother! How could it be otherwise?"

Now my head snapped back around to look at her in alarm, then swiveled back and forth between her and Miss Elizabeth to see her countenance when her lover was mentioned, but she was an inscrutable woman when she wanted to be. You would not be able to tell her heart was broken in half from her countenance; that was for certain. She was also taking the pending reunion with her lover with much less excitement that I thought the situation warranted. Perhaps Darcy was even more of a scoundrel or Bingley more of a fool than I had surmised.

Anne just blathered on, "Oh, I imagine Mr. Bingley will need to bring his sister as well!"

Now Darcy was turning red, and I was… well, I cannot tell you what I was because I was distracted by the bell at the door.


	5. Rider

_A/N: I'd like to give a little shout-out to my latest protégé, and by that I mean someone who sent me a beta story and I liked it and I contributed absolutely nothing. Take a look for_ _Family Traditions_ _by igordon and welcome a new writer to the fold._

 _Also, one of the reviewers threw down the gauntlet this morning, or more likely threw down the calfskin kid gloves with white stitching and seed pearls, but you get my drift. You will see I am not a man to be intimidated by challenges, so here is my response._

* * *

The bell was fairly annoying, but I suspect that was because I knew I was about to get a tongue lashing. I had endured more than one in my life to date, and expected to endure more than one in my future, starting with this next delivery. I had never felt like I had much luck in life. My papa left home when I was three, and did not leave much for mama and me. His empty bottle of booze was nowhere near as useful for a three year old as you might surmise, and even now at sixteen, I still found its utility limited.

The maid of all work looked me up and down with a critical eye, but mostly she just looked annoyed with the quality of her day. I was just the latest challenge, so I assumed the master or mistress of the house was being difficult, or perhaps they had visitors. Actually, I knew for a fact that they had visitors, since my express was for one of those selfsame chuckleheads.

After giving her the name of my delivery, she bade me wait in the entry hall and entered the parlor with the same look I imagine she would use to enter a pit of snakes, and spoke to a group of ladies and gentlemen I saw sitting around a small table.

"Mr. Darcy, you have an express, sir."

A tall man got up from the table, with what I imagined was a relieved look, so perhaps the two women or the other gentleman were what constituted the snake pit; although to be honest, he could just as well have been the snake and the rest of them were mongooses.

"You have a message?"

The man was certainly tall, and I imagine with his fine clothes, obvious wealth, and gentlemanly manners he probably would have the ladies falling all over themselves over him for a century… maybe even two. He could certainly look down on any man of lesser worth with the greatest of ease.

Unfortunately for his ease, I was as tall as a mountain and I looked down on him from a height sufficient to be able to comment on the small bald spot forming on the very top of his head if I so chose, but I was in enough trouble as it was.

"Mr. Darcy, I have a reply for you, but I must make a confession."

At this point, he said the oddest thing.

"My good man, you have rescued me from the most uncomfortable quarter hour of my life, so unless you plan to tell me you just burned down that great estate a half mile up the lane, you have nothing to fear. Even that might be forgivable if my aunt was inside when it went up. _Did you burn down Rosings?"_

I probably should have been startled by such a statement, but my father's booze bottle had _not_ in fact been empty when I was three, and I may have had a few difficulties growing up. Some girls would giggle over my great height or awkward manner and I would get red. Some boys would laugh, so I would bust their heads. Sometimes, it seemed I would have to fight my whole life through. This man was saying things that made not the slightest sense, but a man such as me rarely encountered anything that made sense, so I was not alarmed. When it came right down to it, the regular mail was nearly as fast as an express rider, so anybody who hired me was already at a disadvantage when it came to sensibility, but I accepted their rush, since life is not easy for a boy such as myself.

In the end, I decided I had better come clean while he was clearly in a good mood.

"No sir, I did not burn down the estate but I am at your service if that is your desire."

He just chuckled, and said, "Ah well, probably for the best if we leave it standing. My valet would be vexed with me if I allowed all my clothes to burn."

I thought I had best get on with my true confession.

"Mr. Darcy, I must confess that my horse spooked on the way into town with your last letter and dumped me off a bridge and into a stream. I am afraid your letter may have been damaged. I delivered it as instructed anyway. The gentleman seemed excited but not perturbed, so perhaps it was not badly damaged, but I thought I must come clean. Here is the reply."

I just stood waiting for the man to explode, but he simply grunted as if this was only the last in a series of unfortunate events, or perhaps he was quite accustomed to his letters going into the stream. For all I knew, his fortunes may have changed and he might be glad his friend could not read the letter.

I thought I should get all of the bad news out at once, so I added, "Also sir, on the return journey, I threw a shoe so I have been delayed by around four or five hours."

He just grunted noncommittally; as if this were such a minor setback it was of no note, and tore open the envelope. He then said, "Did you fall in the stream with this letter, or mine?"

I said, "Yours, sir. This one was written that way to start with."

He just shrugged his shoulders and gave me a coin, saying, "I thank you sir. You have at least saved me from that room for a few minutes, so I am in your debt."

Then he turned back to return to the snake pit, and said, "Go to the kitchen at Rosings and tell them I asked you be fed, and return in a few hours. We shall see if you can manage to get the next note to its recipient in one piece, shall we?"

"Yes, sir"

"And, probably best if you did _not_ burn it down, regardless of the temptation."

"Yes, sir"

It was the strangest setdown of my life, but I had no reason to question my good fortune. I thought I might take him up on his offer of supper, but first I would go to the tavern and get myself a brew. Life ain't easy for a boy like me.


	6. Snakes

_A/N: For those of you that aren't old enough or obscure enough or American enough or country enough to get the words in the last chapter, go to YouTube and listen to A Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash. I don't know if I'm bragging or holding my head in shame, but I do have all of those lyrics in my head and did not have to consult a reference. I did it mostly because a reviewer said something about it, and in the end, I just couldn't resist._

 _There are a few questions about things in the story that don't make sense, so let me make a blanket explanation. You're lucky anything in this story makes sense. It's not quite as downright farcical as Seven Brandies, but it is intended to be more humor than anything else._

* * *

Mr. Darcy seemed quite relieved by the express rider at the door. In fact, he looked just about like a drowning man who suddenly sees a dozen men with soft nets ready to save him, standing next an inn with a comely serving lass holding out a fluffy towel in front of a warm fire, along with a bowl of beef stew a flagon of ale, and access to a quiet room that is entirely lacking in the voice of Miss Anne de Bourgh. Yes, he was quite relieved to leave the company of his teasing cousin, although, to the best of my knowledge, Mr. Darcy was entirely impervious to comely lasses; or perhaps, neither I nor anybody I knew fit the description. Yes, that was it. I was tolerable, but not comely. It all made sense.

Perhaps my flights of fancy take me a bit too far, but I had recently concluded that Anne was either a mad genius or a bit disingenuous. She went from a complete novice in the arts of teasing to a master of sufficient qualifications that I was beginning to wonder if it would be unseemly to sit at her feet and gaze at her adoringly; **or** she already knew all about teasing before she even arrived, and was just baiting me at the beginning of the conversation. Either way, she had certainly tied Mr. Darcy up in knots.

Yes, Mr. Darcy was indeed looking supremely relieved, and most vexed, and, and heartily annoyed, and mostly confused, and _fearsomely handsome, and…_ _I gasped in surprise, and hoped I had not said that aloud._ It was bad enough to think it, but to say it? Miss de Bourgh would _never_ let something like that go. I reckoned myself lucky that I had barely escaped with my life, and was glad I would never have such an unorthodox thought again.

I did have to admit that Mr. Darcy was more than a bit confusing. For example, _why was he here?_ The amiable bumbling colonel was easy enough to understand, but why Mr. Darcy? He certainly had no reason to actually be checking on my condition, so what was he _really_ here for, other than making a good target for Anne's impertinence; although you would have to admit he served that particular purpose admirably.

I saw Anne slide forward in her chair as soon as he got even moderately out of earshot, and she hissed at her other cousin, "All right, Periwinkle! Time to come clean! Explain to me why Darcy needs money! Why is he hunting an heiress?"

To tell the truth, I was beginning to wonder that as well. I mean, why the colonel needed money was fairly obvious; but why would Mr. Darcy need funding? And even more curious, _how was Anne privy to his private business affairs?_ I knew she was aware of the colonel's monetary requirements for I had just told her that not twenty minutes past, but Mr. Darcy was another story. What was her source of intelligence on the gentleman? How did she know about his finances? _Why was he so abominably handsome?_ Oops! My traitorous mind had obviously been exposed to an overabundance of Miss de Bourgh's impertinence and had slipped a cog or two.

Anne was just in the act of starting to grille the colonel mercilessly, when she stopped talking mid-sentence, and he looked relieved that he would not have to explain Mr. Darcy's financial affairs. Anne just sat there staring open mouthed at the tall-dark-handsome-drink-of-water that was in the entry hall talking to Mr. Darcy. The man was at least as tall as a giant, and if he was an express rider I imagined he either ran faster than a horse (the mostly likely explanation), or he was the worst express rider in Kent, and possibly the worst in England. I had no idea how a horse could carry the man all the way to town with his feet dragging on the ground, but that was beside the point. Anne was practically drooling in her tea, and while staring at someone was fairly common; and in fact, an activity that Mr. Darcy regularly engaged in, I thought ladies really should draw the line at drooling.

Come to think of it, why did a lady staring at a man while practically swooning with desire make me think of Mr. Darcy, the least likely swooning candidate in modern history? This was a most perplexing man.

I saw him point to Rosings, which I took to mean he was sending his giant there for supper. The rider nodded, and said a few words, while longingly looking the other way towards the village. I reckoned when Anne dragged me off to find a rope and hunt him down, we would have better luck at the tavern in the village than anywhere else, and there was little doubt she would be hunting the poor man down soon enough. In fact, I was surprised she was still here. She had somehow turned into a fierce creature. My mother would even be afraid of her… well, let me retract that, as to the best of my knowledge my mother was afraid of nobody. It was to be an interesting trip to Pemberley Anne had cooked up.

Then, I had the thoroughly odd thought, _why had Mr. Darcy gone along with the scheme?_ I knew full well he could slap down an impertinent question and shut the offender up instantly. Just listen to what he said to Mr. Bingley back at that first assembly. He had said just exactly the right words to send the insufferable man away to leave him in peace and… **EGADS!** My head nearly fell off my shoulders with the next thought. He had _not_ said those words to me. He no doubt thought I could not hear. _He said them to Mr. Bingley!_ Perhaps he was just trying to shut Mr. Bingley up, an understandable enough desire! Perhaps I was _not_ completely out of range for the title of _comely lass_.

Those confusing thoughts nearly had me completely ignoring Anne's bizarre behavior, and the colonel was as usual taking it all in stride.

Mr. Darcy came back a few moments later, and did the most extraordinary thing I could imagine. He smiled… _at me!_

In that very moment, almost as if I had hit by a bolt of cliché from the sky, I began to wonder about Mr. Darcy and I got an idea! An awful idea! Yes, Elizabeth Bennet got a wonderful, awful idea!

This idea was so unlikely, so breathtaking in its scope, so monumental I might have taken an hour to explain it to Anne, although the only way I could get the new Anne to remain silent for a minute let alone an hour would be to plunk her tall express rider onto the table in front of her, which would probably make it hard to get her attention, and he was so tall it would be nearly impossible to talk around him, so I would probably just keep the idea to myself.

So what was this mad idea that would no doubt change history for at least a century, perhaps two? _I decided that for the rest of the visit, until we parted company, I would give Mr. Darcy the benefit of the doubt!_ Yes, this was a unique idea for certain, but I all of a sudden understood him so much better, and this was the natural consequence. I then understood him perfectly, in all his particulars and I was far more charitable toward him than I had ever been.

Mr. Darcy did not have the look of a rake or a gambler, and he also did not have the look of a man who wasted money. I had to trust Anne with her mother's connections and her other sources of family knowledge to know her own cousin better than I, so I had to believe _his estate was in serious trouble. _Perhaps his father was a drunkard or a gambler or left him with huge debts. Perhaps years of drought or locusts had decimated his crops and herds. Perhaps… well, I would never know the details, but if he had to marry an heiress, _he was exactly the same as me!_ He had dependents just like my sisters, except he must have hundreds. He had people that would suffer if he did not get his financial house back in order. If he needed an heiress, it would explain just about all of his behavior in Hertfordshire. He was rude to us to keep us at a distance, since he was clearly resting up for an assault on the ladies of the first circles, or perhaps he was girding his loins for a life with someone like Caroline Bingley, but worse. Yes, I had thoroughly misjudged the man. He had a difficult, nearly Herculean task in front of him. _Until that very moment, I never understood him_.

Once I understood his destitution, it made his treatment of me, if not necessarily amiable, at least understandable and I could well appreciate his position, being indistinguishable from mine.

So, for the remainder of his visit, I vowed I would give him the benefit of the doubt. If he said he came to check on me, I would take him at his word and assume he said it in earnest. If he said he could afford a dozen visitors to Pemberley, I would not embarrass him by challenging his ability. It must hurt an honorable master of such an estate immensely to not be able to afford the basics of life or to offer hospitality that even Longbourn could afford, so I would be kind and generous to him as I would to any other unfortunate. If he asked a question, I would not tease him. I had Anne for that anyway and she was far worse than I ever was, so I would answer him with the kindest and most positive answer I was capable of, regardless of the question. Yes, for one day, I would agree to anything he asked of me. It was the least I could do. For just one day, I was going to pretend I was my sister Jane, and I was going to be as nice and understanding as it was possible to be with the poor man, and do my very best not to make things worse for him.

This newfound resolve filled me with a sense of righteous peace, and so I did something I had never done in our entire history. I hoped his financial woes were not compounded by any particular physical maladies, as I doubted he would expect the insane thing I did next, but fortunately I thought he might likely survive it.

Yes, you guessed it. I returned his smile.

I suspect he was just trying to wrap his head around my radical new deportment, when we once again heard the bell ring.


	7. Visitors

_A/N: Hi there, hope you're enjoying this story! I should mention that I shamelessly borrowed a few words from the master in the last chapter, but remember there was more than one master. In this case I borrowed some words from the classic Regency tale of love, honor, compromise, deception, conflict and redemption we all know and love so well. I of course, refer to How the Grinch Stole Christmas by Dr. Seuss._

* * *

"Mr. and Miss Bingley"

I could not believe that Charles was _actually_ going to enter this pigsty or goat pen or parsonage or whatever this hovel was. He claimed that Mr. Darcy was there, but the entire idea was so nonsensical and revolting that I was seriously beginning to wonder if the boy was touched in the head. Mr. Darcy being caught in a parsonage such as this was so ridiculous it was practically giving me the vapors, so I decided to help him along.

"Really, Charles you must be mistaken. I have no idea why we are to look for my Mr. Darcy in such a place, when if he is here, it is clearly just to do some duty to his aunt! He will be back at the great estate before you know it. We should have waited for him at Rosings, visiting with Lady Catherine!"

I truly would have enjoyed a little tête-à-tête with Lady Catherine, who was as graceful, sensible and genteel lady as I had ever heard of. I had never managed to achieve an introduction with the great lady, and here we were wasting a perfectly good invitation from Mr. Darcy to attend him with some emergency at Rosings, and Charles was wasting it on a parsonage… _a parsonage!_

Charles continued in his usual unperturbed and frustrating manner.

"Darcy's letter was hard to read, and it sounded confusing, but urgent. I shall attend him immediately, and if he is at the parsonage, than I shall go to the parsonage. Really, Caroline I have no idea why you did not stay in town. There is not the slightest need for your presence here. In fact, why do you not just get back into the coach and return, while I take care of whatever minor service I may perform and I shall return on the morrow."

I have no idea what made my brother so simple. I imagined the nursemaid dropped him on his head a few times, or perhaps he had been fed rat food or a bowl of beef stew during his childhood. Either way, if he thought I would miss a chance to be in Mr. Darcy's company, he had another half-formed and slow-witted think coming.

"Charles, do not be ridiculous. It was clear from the letter that Mr. Darcy was suffering from boredom in this county and required the company of some truly refined and elegant society. Imagine how desperate he must be if he is relying on a parson for company."

I would have continued in that vein for another five minutes, since Charles was a slow-witted boy that had to have everything repeated to him a hundred times, but the door opened. I would have to say the maid that announced us did so without anything like the respect I believed we were due, and more than a touch of perhaps annoyance and impatience. I gave her a nasty look to show her my disapprobation. The woman was much too thick to recognize the look though, as she just grunted and left us to ourselves after announcing our names with the same tone of voice the death-takers used to call out 'bring out your dead' during a plague. I would discharge her in a moment if she were my servant, and I might just discharge her anyway, as the behavior and deportment of the lower classes were all of our responsibilities.

We entered a room so small I suspected it was a waiting room, but much to my astonishment, it appeared to be the parlor – the _entire_ parlor. I looked around for the doors that would open up to make it complete, but in fact this room seemed to be all there was. It was around the size of my closet, and nowhere nearly as elegantly decorated. Whoever lived here must live in abject poverty, and I wondered who it was and why Mr. Darcy was here. Was he on some mission of mercy or duty to the disagreeable place? It must be like visiting his tenants which he had mentioned from time to time, although to tell the truth I had no idea what a tenant actually was.

" _Mr. Bingley, Miss Bingley. Welcome! Will you join us_?"

The woman that jumped up from the table and addressed us so unfashionably forwardly was completely unknown to me, so I assumed she may be the parson's wife. She was dressed too well to be a tenant, but perhaps if not the parson's wife, a tradesman's wife from the village. It would not be impossible, but why she felt she could introduce herself to us was beyond me. I believed it incumbent upon me to put the insufferable woman in her place lest she try to become too familiar with her betters.

"Madam, we have not even been introduced. I would beg you not to address me with such familiarity."

She looked like trouble, this one. She looked almost as impertinent and disagreeable, and come to think of it, pale and sickly looking as…

 **What was she doing here?**

There, sitting at a table so small I would not use it for a single setting, was none other than _Miss Eliza Bennet._ Very oddly, she was _sitting with Mr. Darcy_ and some Colonel judging by his uniform. The Colonel was smiling and smirking most unbecomingly. I disliked officers in general, and took a decided dislike to this one instantly, although I had to admit that anyone sitting at table with Eliza Bennet would be in by brown books already regardless of their actions or station.

I thought to put the woman in her place.

"Miss, Eliza, what are you doing here?"

The Bennet chit surprised me by taking a glance at _my Mr. Darcy_ and giving him what seemed like a _wink_. This was unpardonable, and she answered most impertinently.

"Visiting my friend Mrs. Collins, of course!"

I had no idea who Mr. or Mrs. Collins was, so I decided on another tack.

"Mr. Darcy, I see you are taking pity on the members of this group and gracing them with your presence. I applaud your decency, sir. I have always said you were the most honorable and dutiful of all the very many elevated gentlemen I am acquainted with. I applaud you."

I gave him my most sultry look, with a subtle flicking of my eyelashes while standing straight and surreptitiously pulling my dress tighter so he would know of my approbation. Subtlety was lost on men, and you had to make your intentions clear.

Eliza was giving me the same smirk she had deployed at Netherfield, probably making some type of desperate ploy for Mr. Darcy's attention, but she had not the slightest chance with his _true_ object now present.

Everyone had stood up from the table, so Miss Eliza, said, "Perhaps, I should perform introductions?"

I sought to put her in her place, and said, "I have no need of meeting anyone of this rank, Eliza. Perhaps we may await Mr. Darcy at Rosings, since my brother has urgent business with him."

Miss Eliza seemed like she was… was… something, about her demeanor bothered me, but she seemed ready to introduce me to her mousy friend anyway, when Charles interrupted at the worst possible time, and OH! The things he said."

"My pardon for interrupting your tea ladies and gentlemen, and I imagine my sister's rudeness did not win us any favors. I came as soon as I got your note Darcy, although I must say you had best stop chastising me for my writing. That thing you sent me could not have been any more illegible had you soaked it in the river."

I was torn between my desires to bash Charles over the head with my fan over his impertinence, and my need to watch what was happening at the table. _How dare he criticize Mr. Darcy's penmanship?_ However, my indecision was cut off because I was distracted by Miss Eliza looking over at Mr. Darcy, giving him a small, sultry, entirely seductive smile, and making the oddest gesture involving holding her hand well above her head as if measuring a giant.

I was nearing to apoplexy when the gentleman smiled back at her and nodded. _So, the little seductress already had her claws in him!_ Apparently, I had arrived just in time. I considered the honorable gentleman under my protection from such as she, and Eliza was not to find me easy prey for her arts and allurements; I can assure you of that!

Mr. Darcy actually smirked, and said, "I am afraid that is quite close to what actually happened Charles. May I impose upon you and your sister to join us?"

My brother laughed that annoyingly jovial laugh of his and said, "The table seems a bit small for two more Darcy."

The pale sickly merchant's wife jumped up energetically, in a way entirely reminiscent of the trials I had endured with the Bennet family in Hertfordshire. Her demeanor _showed an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum_ , and I had not the slightest desire to become acquainted with her; but she managed to beat me to a response.

"Oh, have no fear. We have a card table, do we not Lizzy? Oh, my pardon! We were never introduced in the end. I am Anne."

With that, she stood up and executed the worst curtsy I had ever seen. Really, could not even a merchant learn how to show their respect to their betters? Even the grumpy maidservant had done a better job.

The abominable woman continued her assault, saying, "I imagine you must be Caro!"

I had quite enough of such, and was not about to have some farmer's wife addressing me with such familiarity, and with such a horrid shortening of my name.

" _You may call me Miss Bingley! _We are not on such familiar terms, so I imagine you might as well give me your surname so I do not have to refer to you as _'merchant's wife'_ or _'farmer's wife'_ or some such.

I have no idea why Charles and Mr. Darcy found that funny. I was simply putting the chit back in her place, and the only thing wrong with the setdown is that my lazy brother and indifferent suitor had not taken care of her in the first place; but they were both actually trying to prevent themselves from laughing

The horrid woman looked most repentant, so I imagined my setdown had been effective, as they always were.

She said, "My apologies, _Miss Bingley_. Perhaps _Miss Bennet_ will perform the introductions since you seem to be such a stickler for protocol."

I turned red in anger and was just about to give her the setdown of her life, when Charles decided to interfere.

"Would you allow me the office? I am acquainted with everyone here."

The little chit actually smiled at my mutton headed brother, and I suspected I might have another rescue to execute soon if she kept her knives as sharp as the Bennet woman did. She answered with a smile much too big to be genuine, "Why _of course_ , Mr. Bingley. It would be my honor."

My insufferable brother walked in front of me _smirking_. What was wrong with that boy? He took a big breath, and began what was likely to be the most tedious introduction in history.

"Forgive me if I get precedence wrong."

The little hoyden said, "Oh, we do not stand on ceremony. Might I call you Charles… Oh! I am getting ahead of myself. Lizzy has been berating me for days about that… or has it been the other way round? I am not certain!"

That last was said with what could only be described as a witch's cackle, and even odder still, the aforementioned Eliza started coughing uncontrollably, and Mr. Darcy in a very gentlemanlike manner slapped her on the back to help her clear her cough, while holding her arm to insure he did not knock her over onto the table. I really thought he was being entirely too much of a gentleman. Perform such a move more than once and the Parson's Mousetrap was almost certain to be your fate. Or course, that thought had me thinking how I might put it to use, and I was determined I could probably work with that idea once I dispatched Eliza and her coach driver's wife friend. I was not about to let her get her hooks into him ahead of **me**.

Charles stood oddly tall and said, "Very well. Miss Anne de Bourgh, Heiress ofRosings in Kent, may I present you to my sister, Miss Caroline Bingley, daughter of trade from London."

I am certain I swayed and nearly fell, as the horror of the worst day of my life dawned on me. _Anne de Bourgh! _My life was ruined, and it was all my brother's fault.

Charles took my arm to steady me, and whispered in a voice only I could hear, "Steady on, Caroline. Do not make assumptions. You have set your own table with your bad manners, so let us see how much you enjoy the meal."

With much too bright of a smile, the chaw-bacon continued as if my life were not over.

"Colonel, Fitzwilliam! May I present you to the acquaintance of my sister, Miss Caroline Bingley! Tell me Colonel, is your father the Earl or Matlock in good health, and has your brother the Viscount decided to admit defeat on our last wager?"

The insufferable colonel bowed, and said, "My father is quite well, Bingley. As for my brother, he might admit defeat on his deathbed, but do not hold your breath; and I would appreciate it if you did not hurry that day. I particularly do not want to be the heir."

With that, he and my brother laughed and Darcy joined in, surprisingly joined by the two ladies while I turned red or white or more likely green.

Now I was almost certain I would collapse, and probably would have despite Charles holding me up, but fortunately my impending collapse was forestalled by a distraction.

I managed to hold my feet long enough to hear the sound of the bell on the door.


	8. Tradesmen

"Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Gardiner and Miss Bennet"

 **Jane is here! Jane is here! Jane is here! Life is wonderful! Jane is here!**

The refrain started bouncing around my mind over and over and over as I ran across the room most indecorously. I ran up to her and gave her an enormous sisterly hug, and she returned it with all the exuberance she was capable of.

Naturally, she then turned and did the same thing with Lizzy who had been a step behind me. She looked a bit perplexed with my actions but I did not care. I had to assume she was wonderful if she was Elizabeth's sister, and I had heard enough about her indirectly to be quite excited to see her.

The older couple looked at me in some confusion, but nowhere near as much as I would have expected. They were genteel and caring appearing people, and I could just tell that they were in love. At least, in my fanciful imagination I believed that to be the case, and since in my circles I mostly saw couples who were in love the way a snake is in love with a mongoose, perhaps I was just a touch on the cynical side. The couple took the sight of a complete stranger hugging their… what was she, niece perhaps… with nary a raised eyebrow. I imagined that they had some idea of the exuberance of girls, and probably thought getting any sense out of any of us with the next minute or two was an impossible task, for which they had no inclination. They just waited patiently as if they had all day.

This day was just getting better and better. First, that horrid woman got the setdown she deserved, social climbing bottom dweller that she was, and now I had one more Bennet sister with me. I wondered if the next bell might be the other three!

Much to my surprise, Darcy was right behind Lizzy as if glued to her, so perhaps he was reevaluating whether he _really_ needed a fortune or whether he could have a more worthy woman and just man up with respect to saving his estate. I would definitely be talking to him about his aborted proposal at the very first opportunity. I was also certain to canvas the absurdly ungentlemanly conduct of telling a woman he could not offer for her because he needed an heiress. Of course, I could not _truly_ chastise him for making an address that Elizabeth did not seem to even desire, but I was in no mood for reasonableness. A reasonable person would be quite the anomaly in this room anyway, and you know how much I like to fit in. I also had to reflect that with the way Lizzy had been looking at him the previous five minutes (a lifetime in this particular assembly), I was not entirely certain of her indifference.

Miss Orange Dress with Feathers watched the display of affection with open disdain, while her brother guided her slowly and steadily towards the table, apparently fearful that she would fall over. He did not seem to feel it would be a terrible thing for her to swoon and spend a bit of time prostrate on the floor, but he seemed gentlemanly enough to think that would oblige one of the _other_ gentlemen in the room to assist her, and I doubted either of them would be willing to assist her from the floor with tongs.

He gently guided her to the table, and sat her down in the chair next to the Colonel. I imagined she could not possibly be all that much worse than French cavalry, so Periwinkle seemed safe enough. He was poor as a rat, so he was safe from her, and she was… _wait a minute_ … for all I knew she had a decent dowry, was obsessed with entering the Gentry, and the colonel was eyeing her with the same look I had seen him using on Darcy's horse. Ah well, he was a big boy. I was not to be concerned about him. The only thing I really needed him for anymore was to explain to me Darcy's financial woes, but the way Darcy was looking at Lizzy, I was not at all certain that problem would not sort itself out in time anyway. According to my design, they might have months together at Pemberley, which was ample time to either fall in love or grow to hate the very sight of each other; and it seemed these two could go either way.

Elizabeth and Jane separated, and Lizzy set about performing introductions.

"Uncle Gardiner, Aunt Gardiner, Jane, may I present to your acquaintance some friends of mine, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire… Miss de Bourgh of both Rosings in Kent and occasionally Bedlam… Colonel Fitzwilliam… Mr. Bingley… Miss Bingley."

She indicated each person in turn, and each person gave the appropriate bows, curtsies or lunatic stares.

For some reason I liked the Gardiners immediately, and for their part, they looked at everyone curiously except Mr. Bingley. Him they looked on with the same look they would give a man with the pox. I also noticed Jane would not make eye contact with him, and he looked decidedly nervous as well. I would have to get to the bottom of _that_.

"Mr. Darcy, Miss de Bourgh, Colonel, Mr. Bingley, please allow me to make you known to my aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner of Cheapside, and my eldest sister, Miss Jane Bennet."

All the appropriate moves were made, and Elizabeth surprisingly added a superfluous sounding detail, "My sister has been staying with the Gardiners in town these four months."

With that statement, she did her best to burn a hole in both Darcy and Mr. Bingley's heads with her eyes, which I thought was probably not physically possible, but they both looked like naughty boys who wanted to run for cover, so perhaps it worked metaphorically.

Mr. Gardiner replied, "Lizzy, I apologize for appearing so unexpectedly. Entirely by chance, I had some rather urgent business with the Smythe estate which is but ten miles from here, and Jane asked if I might call on you and possibly even prevail upon Charlotte for her to stay here for a few days if it is no trouble."

Elizabeth and Jane both gave enormous smiles, and I thought perhaps this whole arrangement might make sense. I heard a new voice that surprised me; since I was unaware it was possible to get into the building without that infernal bell going off.

"Of course, you shall be welcome Jane! You know you are always welcome! Mr. And Mrs. Gardiner, welcome to my home."

I turned to see Mrs. Collins enter from another door, and she hurried up to embrace Jane and Mrs. Gardiner. She already knew everybody so introductions were unnecessary, but she looked at me like I was some new and curious creature she had never encountered before. However, she did not seem unduly concerned. I was not certain anything could unduly concern Mrs. Collins.

She continued, "My husband continues his _discussions_ with Lady Catherine, but I must admit that her curiosity might not be satisfied for very long since the colonel let out a very ungentlemanly scream just before running from her presence like a man whose coat was afire."

Periwinkle looked chagrined, but not as much as you might hope for.

Charlotte continued, "I should also mention the weather outside is turning nasty. I barely beat the storm, so I hope you shall not be going out again. You are welcome to spend the night, although things may be a bit crowded."

Mr. Gardiner told her he had made arrangements at the inn, and would send his coachman to the village for a few hours, to return later to fetch them.

Mrs. Collins continued, "I believe we have enough card tables for everyone to be seated, and I have asked Hannah for more tea and some snacks. By the way Lizzy, have you any idea why she would be in a sour mood?"

Lizzy just looked around at the crowded room, and Mrs. Collins just said, "Yes, I see. Come along Mr. Darcy. It is time to earn your keep."

Like I said, or perhaps never got around to, "I really like Mrs. Collins."

True to form, five minutes later we had an impromptu tea set up with card tables and the occasional odd chair, and everyone was seated around making a merry but quite odd party. We barely had any room to maneuver in the small parlor, but that was really no excuse for Darcy to sit _so very close_ to Lizzy, but she had not bitten his head off yet, so I imagined he was safe for the moment. Lizzy could well take care of herself.

Jane… er, Miss Bennet… had been seated next to Mr. Bingley but only the leg of the table prevented her from moving farther from him, and she would not even look at the gentleman. He seemed an amiable enough fellow, but he also looked like a naughty schoolboy who had just been thrashed, or was expecting it momentarily. _Curiouser and Curiouser!_

As the tables were set up I tried to work out the mystery of Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. Mrs. Gardiner managed to chat with Darcy for a few minutes, and it was established she grew up five miles from Pemberley and actually had some mutual acquaintances. Darcy was the most amiable I had ever seen him, and they spent some time talking about her uncle's bookshop, with Lizzy chiming right in along with them. They were the most comfortable they I had ever seen them, but considering they were previously the two most awkward people I knew in each others' company, that was not necessarily the pinnacle of success.

The Gardiners told me that they were in trade, and Mr. Gardiner briefly described his business and his reason for calling on the Smyth estate. Mother would practically be in hives if she learned I had spent time in such company, but Darcy took it all in stride and even suggested he might be amenable to a visit to Mr. Smythe and his frog, as he had not seen him in some time. I was definitely going to quiz him on his odd behavior at the very first possible opportunity. Since meeting Lizzy's relatives did not seem to bother him, I thought it incumbent on me to try to rattle him again, since I had not done so in at least half an hour.

I naturally said the only possible thing, "Mr. Gardiner, I realize this is a most impertinent question, but are you fond of fishing or shooting?"

It was indeed an odd question, but I believed the Gardiners were probably quite unflappable. He replied, "I enjoy fishing enormously, although I cannot indulge as much as I would like."

Darcy looked at me curiously, with the half his mind he seemed willing to detach from Lizzy, so I continued.

"Excellent. My cousin Darcy has been lamenting the state of his trout stream for months, and as it turns out we are all to Pemberley Saturday week, for a stay of some months. Might you be willing to join the party at some point and assist? He is nearly insufferable when his trout stream is overrun."

Mr. Gardiner looked at me critically, and I just watched Darcy waiting for the inevitable explosion, which I was planning to enjoy immensely. In the end, it was not nearly as entertaining as I had hoped for. Darcy just said, "I know it is a lot to ask Mr. Gardiner, but I am truly desperate, and naturally you must bring your children and stay at Pemberley."

It turns out the Gardiners were not quite as unflappable as I had surmised, as they both looked at him most disconcertingly. Finally, they looked at each other for a moment, nodded and agreed to the scheme pending their availability from his business.

I just stared at Darcy while he gave me an evil grin. Payback is most disconcerting; I can assure you of that, and lessons in teasing seemed to be not as necessary for he and I as our previous experience might have led one to believe. I looked at Lizzy, since the whole thing rotated around her, and she looked just about as confused as I felt, but it did not matter. We were all to Pemberley!

I saw Lizzy lean over towards Darcy… alarmingly close to Darcy, and whisper some words that clearly included _thank you_ , and my heart sang with joy. _Not so indifferent after all._ It was time to start on the mystery of Jane Bennet.

I wondered what her story with Mr. Bingley was. Perhaps she fell in love with Darcy and he interfered in some way, but that did not seem right. Perhaps he had when… **Eureka!** I had it. I do not listen to every rumor that passes through the parlor at Rosings, as it would drive me mad, but I remembered one very clearly. It lacked detail, as I believe it came from Charlotte, or more likely Charlotte talking to someone else while I was supposedly not listening… no need to quibble over details.

The story perfectly well explained everything, although I would _definitely_ be quizzing Lizzy on the details at the first opportunity. My investigatory schedule was becoming quite fraught!

Basically, the story, which came from Mrs. Collins which had more authority than it would have coming from Moses, had it that one of the _so-called gentlemen_ of Darcy's party had rather ruthlessly slighted one of the Bennet sisters on the very first night of their acquaintance. Called her _'not handsome enough to tempt him'_ or some such rot, _at a public assembly_. It was clear Darcy would never do such an ungentlemanly thing. I am not saying he cannot be rude and arrogant, or that he might say something like that. He could out-rude-and-arrogant my mother when he was of a mind. However, I could not imagine any situation that could drag that many words out of the taciturn man at a public assembly. No, a dozen words was his limit for attendance at an assembly such as that, and that under extreme duress. No, it could not possibly have been Darcy.

 _It had to be Bingley_ _._ With his sister's deportment even a step below my mother's, I had to assume the apple did not fall too far from the tree, so _he must have slighted Jane Bennet_ , apparently publicly, on the first night in the neighborhood. He must be the worst chowderhead in England. Now, unfortunate circumstances were _forcing her to sit next to the horrid man_.

I was so relieved to have it all worked out, and was just working my way over to somehow rearranging the seating to be more to her liking, when I was interrupted yet again by the bell.


	9. Royalty

All who know me will attest that I am well celebrated for my frankness and my perspicacity, so I will describe what I saw in the parsonage after being announced by the sulky maidservant who would not last a fortnight in Rosings. Her announcement entirely lacked the respect it was due of a person of my August lineage. She actually sounded somewhat aggrieved and a bit sulky, although I cannot imagine anyone in this parsonage having enough people traipsing through to make the slightest difference in her life.

Once I entered the parlor, as is my usual custom, I read the people in the room immediately. My observational skills are legendary, and I could ascertain the entire contents of the room easier than a parson can read his Dante at the pulpit. The room was very oddly set up, but it was probably the best Mrs. Collins could do with little notice, so I could really not fault her. If she was planning to continue entertaining in these numbers, we would have to see about getting her more tables and chairs or expanding the parsonage.

I managed to catch a good view of the assemblage before they quite realized who was at the door, and it was very telling… very telling indeed. As usual, I learned more from that glance of a quarter of a minute than a lesser person would get with a two hour investigation. I do not like to boast, but when stating a simple and well agreed conclusion, it is not really boasting.

The first and most hopeful sign I had seen in ages was that Anne was looking lovelier than ever. She had picked up a radiance to her countenance, as if she had been under a cloud for years, and it passed suddenly to let in the sun… although, she must then immediately put on a bonnet and erect a parasol to insure she did not become too brown and course. Anne's radiant countenance was quite easy to explain! Fitzwilliam was looking at her steadily and longingly; with a look of love and adoration in his eyes that I had been waiting for years to see. He was even laughing at her witticisms, so apparently the boy had finally, at long last, come to the point. There could not possibly be two people in the world who could look at each other like that without an understanding, so it seemed that my fondest hope of my life was about to be realized.

Next I noticed the older couple who immediately stood from the table to come to me for introductions, which were performed with all due ceremony by Anne.

"Mother, please allow me to make known to you my new acquaintances."

She paused as is proper, and continued.

"Lady Catherine de Bourgh, allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner"

"Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, my mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh"

"Lady Catherine, it is an honor to make your acquaintance."

The gentleman bowed very well and properly, and the lady's curtsy was all elegance and sophistication.

They were of middle years, had a very genteel and condescending manner, were well dressed, and had the manners of the first circle. They treated me with respect but not deference, so they were quite obviously land owners of some renown. I had no idea how they knew the assembled party, and they neglected to mention their estate; probably surmising that anyone of any sense and education who has lived in the world would recognize their names, just as they would recognize de Bourgh or Darcy. I was not about to show my ignorance, so I simply paid them the compliment of the station they clearly belonged to. It seemed unlikely they were titled, but they certainly were of some real consequence in the world, and I would be finding out more about them soon enough.

Next I noticed Miss Elizabeth Bennet sitting next to my nephew and whispering something in his ear. There was so obviously nothing between the two, now or ever in my presence; that it was clear she had become some type of confidant to Anne and was now guiding Fitzwilliam towards his chosen goal like a skilled sheepdog. A little touch here, a little nip there and the boy would do as he was destined to. I had to admire the woman. I had been working on Fitzwilliam for a decade, and she apparently brought him to the point in a single afternoon. _Remarkable_ _!_ I could use a woman like that. Perhaps she need _not_ leave immediately. Fitzwilliam was not my only problem of the lunkhead variety, and she seemed to be skilled at moving recalcitrant gentlemen in the right direction; as evidenced by his glances at Anne.

Periwinkle was sitting next to the most beautiful heiress I believe I have ever seen. She was wearing a gorgeous dress that was bold, elegant and obviously of the latest fashion and finest materials. The dress was between peach and nectarine in color, although if a well-born person were to argue for vermilion or tangerine, I would not demur. She showed an abundant and well decorated amount of cleavage, which is only sensible for any woman that has the charms to display. She disdained the current trend for minimization of lace, and when I saw her feathers, I very nearly ran across the room and wrestled her to the ground to steal them… not that I would ever do something so indecorous. In just the few moments it took before I was properly introduced, the young lady showed that she possessed _a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions._ This was a woman I would be proud to call niece, and she practically reeked of a large dowry, so she would do very well for my other nephew. Yes, she would do very well indeed.

"Mother, allow me to introduce Miss Caroline Bingley."

"Miss Bingley, my mother, Lady Catherine de Bourgh"

The young lady was all that was charming and sophisticated.

"I am so very pleased you grant me the honor of making our acquaintance, Lady Catherine. I have been looking forward to the occasion for quite some time. Your sophistication, elegance and understanding are the stuff of legend among the first circles, and it has been the object of my life for some time to secure an introduction."

Yes, she would do for Periwinkle very nicely!

Moving my attention to the other two in the room, I had to admit they there most disagreeable pair of personages I had ever seen. She certainly did not have the beauty and grace of my Anne or Mrs. Collins, or even her sister Miss Elizabeth. The lady looked like one of those statues of foreigners you see in town, I can never remember which ones, Greek or Roman or some such, and I could never truly countenance someone who looks so un-English. She was too tall, too thin, her lips and cheeks were too red, and her hair was too symmetrical. In short she had nothing whatsoever to recommend her, and the spinster's cap was not long in coming. It was some minutes before I became aware she was another of the infamous Bennet sisters, apparently the eldest, Jane. The idea that such a reasonable, honorable and sensible man as Mr. Collins might have been shackled with such a creature just because I suggested he offer an olive branch filled me with horror. _Narrow escape!_ That is what that was. Miss Elizabeth seemed to like her sister, but every sister likes her other sisters, even the unattractive ones.

Miss Bennet the eldest was sitting next to another disagreeable man, who much to my surprise was brother to my new favorite Orange Goddess. The man had nothing to recommend himself, except for his clear abhorrence of the eldest Miss Bennet. He could barely even look at her, which was sensible enough but not very gentlemanly. He reeked of the master of a very prosperous estate, and perhaps he was even titled, but everything from his hair to the shine on his boots was anathema to me. He would be acceptable if he was just more handsome, but alas, not everyone is blessed with looks like Mr. Collins.

Mrs. Collins approached very cordially, and I must say she may well have been the most handsome woman of my acquaintance, and very respectful. There was nothing wanting in this parsonage, I can tell you that.

"Lady Catherine, I fear our poor tables may not meet your standards, but would you care to join us and partake of some tea."

"I shall be happy to join you, Mrs. Collins. I can see you all seem a sensible enough lot, so perhaps I might instruct you on the best way to complete the afternoon."

That rapscallion Periwinkle was always a troublesome boy, and he showed his mettle by saying, "We were doing well enough before, so I believe we are in no need of instruction Aunt, but you are most welcome to join our conversation."

I just stared at the boy until he wilted under my fierce gaze… well, I must be honest. He never did wilt. I just sat down and prepared to give them some instruction, but then I got an idea. An awful idea! Yes, Catherine Anne de Bourgh got a wonderful, awful idea! Miss Bennet had brought my recalcitrant nephew either to the point, or very nearly there without my intervention, so I would try something radical; something unprecedented; something I had never tried before. _I would remain silent_ _!_

I simply sat there and let the youngsters talk among themselves for a full quarter hour, though it nearly killed me. They all eyed me from time to time, probably to see if I was still alive or had collapsed in the chair, but I remained silent.

The silence allowed me to appreciate the wind that had come up dramatically since I had made the short carriage ride from Rosings. I noticed rain lashing against the window, but the three gentlemen (well, two gentlemen and that man) stoked the fire and the room was quite cozy.

The servant brought tea, and the look she gave me was more cordial. I doubted it would curdle milk, so it was an improvement over her previous glance out in the entryway.

I was much impressed with the conversation of the young people. Fitzwilliam was chatting with Anne with a lack of reserve that promised much felicity in their married life, and it took an act of iron will to refrain from asking them when the banns would be read.

Miss Elizabeth's ugly sister gradually seemed to lose her reserve with the unattractive man next to her, and eventually they started talking quietly together while her chair gradually closed a bit of the gap between them. I suspect they were driven more by the constant gentle prodding of her sister and Mrs. Gardiner driving her than any real desire to get to know the boy better, but like I said; Elizabeth Bennet is like a sheepdog. The eldest Miss Bennet seemed to be thawing to the man, as difficult as it must be. It is nearly impossible to get past such a slight as he had made on her person on the very first day of their acquaintance, although she must admit to not being particularly handsome so I did not know why she was surprised by it.

The Gardiners continued to show they were fashionable and well educated, and the discourse around the table was quite lively.

Anne told a very truncated story that seemed to entirely omit Fitzwilliam's proposal, probably because everyone else around the table already knew about it, or perhaps they were keeping it secret until they obtained my blessing officially; but I could keep my council and wait for her to tell me in private.

She drew some somewhat undignified levels of laughter from the table with the tale of the bell on the front door, which according to her had been nearly worn down to nothing during the course of the day, ringing nearly every five minutes.

I was just reflecting on that idea, when that selfsame bell rang… well, rang is probably not the exact right word. It seemed to explode as the front door was slammed open most violently and we could hear the storm raging outside directly, before it was slammed closed again as if it were being smote by the hand of a giant.


	10. Storm

It was the most perplexing thing I think I had ever seen, but it was indeed happening right in front of my eyes. Naturally, I could just barely keep my eyes on the principles in the drama while being distracted by the delectable Miss Bingley. Now, there was a woman! Mad as a bag of ferrets! Mean as a bucket of snakes! Hopping, spitting furious, ready to kill someone! Anne plunked her down right next to me without a thought for my safety. Evil woman!

I managed to keep half my attention on the beauty, which fortunately did not actually require conversing with her since she looked at me with less favor than I would my groom if he replaced my steed with a ten year old donkey, but she certainly had my attention.

The rest of my attention was engaged in trying my best to work out what the blazes was going on with the other loggerheads in the room. I mean, it was obvious something very strange was going on.

First off, I had laboriously worked out that Miss Elizabeth was in love with Charles Bingley, which probably meant Darcy had made a play for the elder and more classically beautiful Miss Bennet. It only made sense. So _why the blazes was he being so nice to Miss Elizabeth?_ More curiously, when Bingley came in, Miss Elizabeth started trying to pawn him off on her sister. It was most perplexing. Had she transferred her affections to Darcy? That did not seem to be the case, but she had at least decided to be nice to him; which was a new development. Oh, she was never impolite, but she looked at him the same way the aforementioned Miss Bingley looked at me, if you catch my meaning. It took me several moments to work the puzzle out, being only able to devote a small percentage of my attention to the task, what with the ever distracting Miss Bingley sitting next to me.

Eventually, I had my **EUREKA** moment, although actually saying that aloud would have sounded silly, so I just shouted it silently. _It all made sense. Everything was clear_ _!_ This idea happened when I saw Bingley and Miss Bennet gradually thaw to each other under the careful guidance of Miss Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner (what a woman). The two could barely stand the sight of each other when they started, but within less than a half-hour, they were chatting amiably like lovers. _Astounding_ _!_ Hatred to amiability in half an hour! I was all astonishment! Either they were the two most tractable people under the King's authority (the King was mad so perhaps not the best grouping), or my _new universal truth_ could be taken as scientific fact.

You wonder which truth I mean, well here it is.

** _It does not matter which Bennet sister you get. Whichever one fate dumps on your lap will do just fine. You will be satisfied_! **

Now, this may seem farfetched, and to tell the truth, I may be implying that I worked it out there in the parsonage watching Aunt Catherine do the oddest behavior of her life, but that would be overstating the case. I may never have figured it out at all, except the door slammed open, tearing the bell right off its mount, and was then slammed closed after letting in a most disagreeable gust of wind.

The next thing I knew, the parlor door opened as well and the tallest man I had ever seen ran into the parlor shouting at the top of his lungs, which I will tell you right here and now was sufficient for the task… if the task was to scare everyone in the room into panic, accompanied by senseless and counterproductive activities.

 **"The Wind! The Trees! The Wind! It is… It is… It is… The Trees!"**

Those were the most sensible words he spoke, but fortunately he gave up on words and substituted action… good man! I always prefer action. My experience in life indicates nine times out of ten words will get you killed, where _action_ … well, that is likely enough to get you killed as well, but at least it was less dull.

The giant ran across the room, directly to the head of the table where Anne and her mother were sitting together, her mother eyeballing every couple and probably planning their lives in minute detail, while Anne sat like a snake, just waiting to strike.

The mysterious giant was apparently not a man to stand overly on ceremony, as he simply reached down, grabbed both ladies around their waists, yanked them out of the chairs and dove to the side just as an enormous branch crashed through the window and smashed the chairs they had been sitting in to bits. I have to say, I liked this boy; although he could well have been more selective in his benevolence.

Being battle hardened, trained, tested, refined and manly, I did the exact thing my years of training had prepared me for. I sat in my chair, frozen in fear trying to make certain no embarrassing details about the condition of my trousers might become a topic of discussion.

Naturally, this afforded me the opportunity to observe the rest of the group at my leisure. Well, it may not have been _quite at my leisure,_ as the delectable Miss Bingley screamed like a wildcat slammed in a door and lit on fire, jumped directly in my lap, screamed again, wrapped her arms around my waist, curled her head into my chest… and went to sleep.

Naturally, my observations of the rest of the table may not have been as detailed as they might otherwise have been, what with the, er… distractions… but I do believe I may stand by what I saw.

The branch had come through the very edge of the window, and only the two chairs Anne and Aunt Catherine had occupied were truly in any danger, but it would have taken a strong man to recognize that. It would have taken a man with nerves of steel. It would have taken a woman of supernatural, preternatural abilities and calmness to assess the situation and arise gracefully to act in the most reasonable manner. In other words, it would take Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. The gentleman observed the state of the tree and the general lack of both comfort and danger immediately. He nodded to his wife who carefully put her spoon down, and then they got up to do what was necessary.

Unfortunately, both Darcy and Bingley were nowhere near that calm or that agile. I fully expected them each to be looking across the table to the other Bennet sister, or perhaps to their own family members being sitting on the lap of the giant and the lap of the mad Colonel respectively; but both of them paid attention _only_ to the lady sitting beside them. It was almost as if they could not give two figs about the rest of the inhabitants of the room. Darcy and Bingley both pushed back from the table, and both simultaneously set about gallantly caring for the ladies at their sides, which naturally had both learning the intrigues of the ad-hoc nature of Mrs. Collins arrangements and the general awkwardness of chairs chosen by my aunt. This action meant both noddies fell over backwards flat on their backs with the wind knocked out of them, gasping for breath and mostly unable to move or even think.

While they did this, both ladies managed to calmly get up from the table, _without_ falling over I might add. They both looked down upon the respective gentlemen who were apparently assigned to them by either fate or proximity, and I could see them both getting ready to very demurely assist the gentlemen to their feet, or at the very least nod sympathetically and say soothing words. **Impressive**!

Both Bennet sisters were perfectly calm and collected, and both could tell as well as the Gardiners that they were in no particular danger aside from the embarrassment of the two lying on the floor, and to tell the truth I would have to classify that more as entertainment than embarrassment. In fact, both ladies continued this entirely sensible operation right up to the very moment when Mr. Gardiner put his hand on the small of Miss Elizabeth's back and pushed her over, sending her tumbling flat out, arms akimbo directly onto the top of the hapless Darcy.

I thought that was a decidedly unusual strategy for an uncle, and was then most astounded when Mrs. Gardiner did the same thing for the eldest Miss Bennet, who landed with her… er… well, let's just say she was directly on top of Bingley as well.

Mr. And Mrs. Gardiner then looked down at their probably compromised nieces, _actually winked_ at each other, and then went around to assist Anne and Lady Catherine, although they refrained from pushing either of those ladies onto the floor.

I naturally was concerned about the state of my comrades in arms, and looked around the hellcat that was asleep in my lap to check on their status. I can tell you, there is not a man in Kent any less amenable to the Parson's Mousetrap than Darcy, and from what I knew of Bingley, he ran from women every week like the plague. No sir, there were no two men in England less amenable to the leg‑shackles. Boy were they going to be hopping, spitting mad when they got up. It might be useful to compare their demeanor with Caroline's (EGADS! **_Caroline's_** … was she still on my lap?), when they managed to extricate themselves, which should be easy enough for two stout men.

It was quite obvious to me that the Gardiners were malevolent dark-hearted souls, as ready to destroy a man as look at him… and they had me _so fooled._ I looked over, and it was quite obvious both Darcy and Bingley had the wind knocked out of them, as they were not able to make even the slightest effort to escape the compromise. In fact, they weren't moving or struggling _at all_ _._ I began to wonder if the Gardiners had managed to kill them.

I wondered if the ladies might eventually lend them a hand, or at least get off the top of them since it was clearly all a misunderstanding, but was rather surprised at the ineffectual way both ladies were working at the task of getting loose. Even a gull like me could readily tell you that there was very little benefit in the task of climbing to your feet, in putting your hand through the hair of the man you were laying on, and neither of them were looking around or paying the slightest attention to the surroundings and trying to get up. _In fact, it looked like they were…_ _ **wait**_ _!,,,_

Well, I will not stain any reputations by continuing this seditious tale. I will _not_ tell you they were kissing the gentlemen hard enough to remove a lung. I will _not_ tell you that the gentlemen were employing the worst strategy for gaining their feet in history, since grabbing the woman on top of you around the waist was clearly counterproductive… unless of course they were planning to crush her spine and toss their lifeless body out of the way. No, I will _not_ tell you that it must have taken several minutes for either lunkhead to gain his feet. In fact, I will _entirely refrain_ from telling you that once they finally _did_ manage to get back to their feet, nothing except their orientation changed, as they were, as far as I could tell, still grabbing their respective Bennet girls around the waist and kissing them one more time, at length and in detail. If they were going to do that, they may as well have stayed on the ground.

Eventually, my own little hellcat woke up on my lap, and I can tell you she thrashed me within an inch of my life. I assure you, Miss Bingley was _very passionate in her anger_. _Very passionate indeed!_ Claws were extended. Entrails were removed. Reputations were ruined. Words that would make a drunken sailor or Major General run and hide were said. Good God I loved that woman.

I watched the two other unattached men in the room, and I saw that they were resigned to their fate. Both had been saddled with a _Random Bennet Sister_ , but I was having a very difficult time finding any censure in their situation, so _that_ was when I worked out my theory.

My great theory was that for any man of sense and education, or even Bingley, it did not matter which Bennet sister happened to fall on you. Once you were flat on your back and the sister was on you, your fate was sealed, but you were peculiarly unconcerned as you would fall in love with her soon enough, and all would be well. Based on my experience in the parsonage, I presumed the falling in love part took around the same amount of time as the getting to your feet part; or perhaps a little less. I wondered if it would work for me as I moved my foot up to the edge of the table and shoved my chair over backwards to the floor.

~~Finis~~

 _A/N: There's still an epilogue, but that's the end of the main story. I hope you enjoyed it in all its craziness. I'll put a bigger note on the epilogue._

 _Wade_


	11. Epilogue

I must admit that Anne de Bourgh is a genius. She exactly, precisely, in every single detail predicted our future down to the last detail right there in the parsonage five minutes after I first started her lessons in teasing. Exactly as she predicted, all of my sisters were now at Pemberley a few weeks later, with everyone she predicted plus a few more. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that I had betrothed myself to the handsomest man in England and he was not in fact bankrupt. Exactly as Anne predicted, my mother and Lady Catherine were thick as thieves and nearly inseparable. Exactly as she predicted, Jane, Mary, myself, and oddly enough, Caroline Bingley were standing in Pemberley's chapel getting married at the same time. As I said, _Anne de Bourgh is a genius!_

Now, you may question whether Anne _actually_ predicted Mary or Caroline in the mix, but I will tell my children, and they will tell their grandchildren and it will be established truth soon enough, so why quibble.

I will have to tell you that Caroline's manners had improved immensely by a month later. I will tell you that twice, or possibly thrice so long as you do not check for crossed fingers behind my back. Her intended called her _My Hellcat_ , and she did her best to earn the title; but we were not concerned. The colonel was happy enough, and therefore we were happy enough. Why he felt the need to punish us all with her presence was a mystery, but he simply told me that I owed him, which I could not understand, but so long as my groom stuck his leg in the shackles or mousetrap depending on your preferred metaphor, I was satisfied.

This peculiar wedding arrangement all came about when Jane and I went back to Longbourn, dragging our newly betrothed to beg for our father's permission and my mother's blessing (my apologies, I could not resist that tiny bit of humor). I have no idea how these ideas cascade into an explosion, but we were attended by Lady Catherine, and the lunkhead and his father, the Earl of Matlock and his brother the Viscount.

It was the oddest experience, and I do not mean the Colonel somehow attaching himself to Caroline's fortune and her fiery temper. That was perfectly normal for Periwinkle. I mean, he had the oddest conversation with me.

"Miss Elizabeth, I understand you are well-read and intelligent."

"I like to think so, Colonel."

"And you are aware of the Scientific Method?"

"Yes, hypothesis, theory, experiment, verification… I have the general idea."

"I had a theory I would like to test. Would you serve as my observer?"

"I am at your disposal, Colonel."

Right at that time, his brother the viscount happened to walk by, and the Colonel engaged him in some fairly ridiculous conversation, before seemingly by accident, tripping him so he fell flat on his back. I gasped in surprise and dismay and went to help the poor man, but the Colonel held me back.

Mary was standing beside us, and he stepped over to her, and pushed her down right on top of his hapless brother.

Five minutes later, he finally replied.

"Yes, the theory is confirmed."

I had no idea what he was talking about, but I can tell you this. Ten minutes later when the viscount and the soon‑to‑be Lady Mary climbed unsteadily to their feet smiling from ear to ear, I had to admit that perhaps there was more than one genius in the family… even if he was a lunkhead.

* * *

 _A/N: Well my friends, we come to the end of another story. I hope you enjoyed it. As we say in the biz, this is the rarest of all commodities, a project that was on time and under budget. It was not my most absurd story (see Seven Brandies), but I do have to admit it was a pretty close second._

 _If you follow me, fear not. I'll be back soon with another one. I currently have four in various stages of repair. I'm debating with myself about the relative merits of finishing another lighthearted fluffy short story "Say Nothing" (less absurd though), or starting on my next novel, which is an epic adventure story. Follow me and you'll know when I decide._

 _Until then,  
Wade_


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